The Man Behind the Cloak
by Northsky
Summary: They say men are like puzzles. Solve them and they're all yours. But some men are much harder to figure out than others. One of the harder puzzles is Vincent Valentine, but Yuffie's determined to solve this puzzle and see the man behind the cloak.
1. Out of Her Zone

**The Man Behind the Cloak**

**A Yuffitine story! I don't know if it is good, but I decided to put it in first person! I noticed that it was hard to write a good Yuffitine….. I hope this one counts as a good Yuffitine….probably not, but I tried my best!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Yuffie, Vincent, or any other characters mentioned in this story! Summery provided by my dear Kysic.  
**

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He was always the silent one in our rag-tag group. The quiet figure in red that lingered in the background, the mysterious Vincent Valentine. Every thing about him was mysterious. He looked mysterious, he acted mysterious, his deep strange voice sounded mysterious, he even smelled mysterious. Not that I knew what he smells like anyways. I mean, one could hardly get close to him without getting the feeling of being frozen. 

What I meant is that he was shrouded by a cloak of unanswered questions, covering up his past and everything about him. The only thing that remained was a tall pale man with long raven hair, red eyes that hid all emotions, a long red cloak and one golden claw.

I don't know much about him, no one in the group knew much about him, actually. He doesn't allow contact, physical or emotional. He was a cold red statue, occasionally springing into life to give some advice. A magical statue. A magical, breathing, attractive statue. Not that I thought he looks attractive. He was way too old for me. Ahem.

Cid liked to use him as a threat, to keep me quiet. I don't talk that much… "Keep yer mouth shut brat, or else that vampire in red will come and suck all yer blood out, in the middle o' the night!" What does the old geezer think I am, a little baby? I'm a dignified 16 year old ninja, not a sniveling little brat who gets scared by a threat about a vampire.

Vincent doesn't look much like a vampire anyways. He seems lost half the time, as if he was searching for something, but what do I know about it. I'm not too deep into that kind of philosophical thinking. I prefer to think simple. Vincent Valentine is too deep, too intimidating, too complicated, too….out there. He's something from beyond of my comfort zone.

Of course I, Yuffie the ninja, tried to bring this foreign object into my comfort zone. I talked to him when he was alone in the corner, tried small touches, everything in my pestering abilities, every trick in my book, just to try and get him to open up a bit, to show me a bit of that face behind the red cloak, raven hair, and that cold marble mask that shows only one expression.

It was all a failure. He doesn't respond back. He was even more distant after our small talks and my light touches. He shied even more from human contact, often locking himself in his room on the airship. But I didn't give up, no I didn't. Yuffie the great ninja does not give up. I will keep trying. I will make sure that I am there on the day he sheds that cloak of mystery around him and show himself to the world.

* * *

Finally, it was time for the final battle against Sephiroth. I don't know how to feel. It's just a bunch of mixed feelings and "if" questions swirling around in my stomach, which in addition to my airsickness made me feel as if Sephiroth's long blade had already pierced through my stomach. Did I say already? I need to stop being so pessimistic. They needed to make a guide book that tells you what you should feel like before fighting a maniac that wanted to conquer the world. It would certainly make everything much simpler.

"Yuffie." A voice behind me startled me out of my thoughts. I turn and realized that I was blocking up the whole walkway of the swaying airship. Vincent Valentine stood behind me, his face, as usual, vacant of all emotions.

"H-hey Vinnie." I used that much hated nickname of his, just to pester him, just to bring some emotion to that blank slate with the twin red orbs. Nothing. Apparently he was not even bothered with the affectionate nicknames; either that or my pestering skills were not at its highest peek, since I was puking all over the place here.

Vincent stood there, waiting for me to move out of the way. It would be awkward to cross, that would involve pressing against me to squeeze by this cramped hallway. Something Vincent Valentine would never attempt. I didn't move, daring him to cross.

"Can you believe it? We've gotten so far." I tried to strike up a conversation, like always there was no reply. I could be talking to a wall for all I know. A very good looking wall, I have to admit to myself.

"Come on Vinnie, aren't you at least a bit nervous?" I, myself, laughed nervously and tried to give him a friendly poke on the chest. The airship swerved, jerking me forward along with my stomach. That damned old man must be getting senile, driving the airship like this.

I bent over and gagged, nothing came up; my stomach is already emptied of all contents. Disgusting, yes, but true. A hand rested on my back, carefully and gently patting it, not at all hesitant on the contact. I continue to gag until I feel that my whole stomach will come up. I finally stop and weakly look up.

Vincent's hand rests on my shoulder. His face still empty, but his eyes—something was different in that short second. Then it was gone. Back to the cold fire that burns in his red eyes.

"Are you ok, Yuffie?" I stare at him; his normally cold voice was warm with slight concern. I smile happily and suddenly had a strange impulse to hug him. I did.

I didn't look up, but I could imagine a look of shock on his face, or maybe a look of anguish, or disgust for I felt his body stiffen against my touch. I don't really care. I held him close and breathed in his scent. That scent of mystery was there, along with a soapy clean smell. I liked both, they calm me down, and making the entangled emotions in my stomach unties themselves. So of course I pulled him in even closer.

"Yuffie." I can't pick out anything from his voice. I was never good at that.

"Yuffie." This time though, the stiffness in was so apparent in his rich, dark chocolate voice that even I can hear it. I still didn't want to look up, because when I do his face will make me realize what I am doing right now. I had wanted to see an emotion displayed on his face, but now that I have the chance, I dare not look up. My hands tightened, reluctant to let go.

"Please, Yuffie." He was begging me. His hands grab my arms; one warm and the other cold as ice. They pried my thin arms apart, away from the reassuring solidness of his body. I reluctantly let go, the clean smell still lingering. I looked down on the floor, ashamed, not even daring to look up. Gloved hands griped my chin and force me to look up into his eyes which bore holes in my own. They looked so unhappy that it made me want to cry out in despair.

"Vincent…" I muttered, face flushed, thinking about what I was attempting to do next. Hey, if I got as far as hugging this vampire why not finished the job? I swallowed, then put my arms around his neck and pull him in for a soft kiss, for good luck. Now at least I can die happy, for I know what Vincent's lips feel like. They were so soft….and warm. I was going to do a kiss and run but as I pull away I got the most unexpected reaction from Vincent. His arms wrapped around my small body as he leaned in for another kiss, more passionate than the one I had given him.

He pushed me against the cramped hallway, crushing his body into mine, his tongue exploring every nook in my mouth, he tasted like….I can't pin it down, it was all a mystery, but I'm well on my way to solving this riddle. His hands sent shivers down my spine as they ran up and down my exposed thighs.This is the advantage of wearing shorts. I feel like a warm bundle of joy. I was all his, and he was happy with me in his arms. But one word from this man shattered that illusion.

"Lucrecia," Vincent moaned, his voice full of lust. He pushed harder against me. He wanted more, his warm lips moved to my neck, desperate, as his sharp claws tangled onto the material of my shirt, tugging, pulling, unraveling. He wanted me. No, he wanted _her._

The realization that he was whispering someone else's name while he was kissing me sent a cold shiver up my spine, much different from the feeling I had when Vincent's gloved hand slid sensually up and down my thigh. I froze, the warmth suddenly disappeared, and the golden claw place on my thigh seemed so cold that it was hot.

"Lucrecia," he whispered, this time in my ear, giving small nibbles of lust. He was so lost, his breath cold against my skin.

"Vincent." My voice seems to have broken his trance. The dreamy look in his eyes vanished as he snapped back into reality. He looked at me, confused then horrified as he realize what we had just done. His hand darted from my thigh like it burned, and he pushed me back so violently that I was crushed further into the cold wall. I hiss in pain as my head smacked against the metal wall.

"I'm sorry Yuffie. I'm a monster, I shouldn't have…." He drops off, afraid to finish his sentence. Vincent looked at me again and easily caught the look of longing in my eyes. Unlike me, he has a way of seeing emotions. He looked away, as if my desire for him disgusts him.

"Maybe…..maybe someday…." He glanced at me as I muttered the words. They were useless, shriveling up and falling to the ground like the drops of saltwater that were now dripping unnoticed down my cheek.

"Maybe someday…. when I've finished atoning for my sins….maybe…" But now he probably had a new sin to add to his list. I sobbed quietly, not wanting him to feel even guiltier. He didn't notice my shoulder heave as I gasped for breath, or the tears that were falling to the ground, one drop after another. He wouldn't even look at me.

He turned and walked away, not looking back, his metallic boots getting further and further away from me. I crouched down against the wall, waiting for that someday when he won't seem as complicated, that someday when that man behind the cloak reveals himself for me to see.

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**Poor Yuffie. I've never written a Yuffitine before but I have admired many other Yuffitine works…..it's such a complicated relationship, but then again any relationship with Vincent Valentine will be complicated because he's such a complicated person. Well I hope you enjoyed this and tell me in your reviews!**


	2. The Ninja and the Professor

**The Man Behind the Cloak**

**Chapter Two: The Ninja and the Professor  
**

**  
Yes, I'm not dead. Surprising isn't it? In the end I chose not to let Yuffie hang there. I decided to put up a second chapter and maybe...a third. This one is through Vincent's view point. Oh god it's going to be hard to put Vincent in character! I'm gonna have to think in a silent, brooding way. Weelll here we goo….  
**

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Ninja Brat. That's what most of AVALANCHE call Yuffie, the youngest member of this mismatch group. 

Everyone calls me, the oldest one of this group—chronologically at least—the silent one, the mysterious one, the cold red statue, Vincent Valentine. She calls me Vinnie the vampire.

I am not a vampire. I'm something even worse; I am a sinner….a monster.

I kissed her, yet I was calling someone else. I didn't even realize that I was pushing against her petite figure until she called out my name, a bit frightened, and perhaps, revolted by my actions. I left her there, didn't want to turn back and look at her. I was scared. Scared that if I even glance at her that I might feel compelled to reach over and help her up to her feet, to dry the tears on her face. I can hear her crying, she thinks she could fool me, but I can hear it clearly, each sob, each tear. I had again caused someone else to cry. Perhaps, she hated me for ever getting so close, for touching her, for tainting her pure essence with my own murky one.

I was a coward, I was afraid of facing more guilt, which I knew I would get if I lingered for longer. I can face monsters, I can face Sephiroth, I can face Hojo himself all over again, but I cannot face her. I got out and I didn't look back.

That was two years ago. I kept well away from her, and the rest of Avalanche. No one ever figured out what happened between the two of us that day in the shaky and cramped hallway of the airship. No one except Yuffie, the invincible ninja, and I, the heartless vampire.

I spent those idle two years visiting the cave where my love was locked in, her crystal prison, preserving her body for eternity, as will mine. I will watch her sleep in her gemstone cage for the rest time. Forever and ever. But deep into the night, instead of dreaming of the maiden in the crystals, I dream of someone else, someone with energetic chocolate eyes, short brown hair and soft full lips. I wanted to call her name, but was confused to which name I should use. I couldn't figure it out.

My dreams often left me awake for the rest of the night, fingers flitting from the ground to my own lips and back again. I have been kissing the ninja, but was calling for the professor.

Somehow, some silent authority figure seemed to have appointed me as the advisor of the often misguided Cloud and information provider. I found him in the glowing forest, surrounded by Sephiroth's clones. He seemed far worse than the last time I saw him, and I knew what it was. I can see it clearly in his bright blue eyes. Guilt. His blue orbs reflected mine, and I could see my own red ones in them. Guilt, remorse, shame, pain. We can be so different, yet so alike.

"Vincent," I looked at him, signaling him to continue. Marlene in hand, the blond man peered at me. I stared back, red against blue.

"Are sins… ever forgiven?" I blinked, breaking the silent connection between our eyes. The looked down, silently thinking. _Are sins ever forgiven?_ Are they allowed to be forgiven? I gave him the only honest answer I could think of right then.

"….I've never tried." He looked at me, so deep in thought, chewing over my answer.

"Well, I'm gonna try," and he walked away with Marlene, slowly disappearing into the woods. I watch him vanish, never moving from my spot.

I've never tried, because it will all be futile in the end.

I could feel her lips, soft against mine, her fingers tangle in my long hair, and her silent sobs. My sins could not be forgiven. I can remorse all I want, but in the end, they'll just be empty redemptions**  
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She fell from the sky. I could see her from afar, an excited grin on her face as the people of the city ran past in panic. She has no fear. Does she remember that day? I found that I was staring at her and quickly averted my eyes as a few people ran past me screaming. Hardly anyone could stand under the gaze of my monster-like red eyes. She was one of the exceptional few. 

I kept well away from her, and she did not come and greet me specially, just a normal acknowledgement. Just a hello. In the church, she stood in front of me, punching her fist in the air with vigor, shouting praises at Cloud's victory. I studied the back of her head and her bare shoulders until I felt that I could memorize every single strand of hair, and every inch of her smooth warm shoulders. She knew I was staring at her, I could see her slightly stiffening as my lingering eyes stayed where they were, refusing to pull themselves away from her. It seems even the mighty Yuffie would cringe under these eyes.

Finally, I looked away, and I could feel her relax, once again beaming at the others but not bothering to turn back and beam at me.

I stayed behind, brushing my gloved hand over the old worn wooden back of the church benches, brushing splinters off. They glanced off the leather gloves, falling useless to the ground. I pulled off the glove with my golden claw, the burden of my guilt resting in that fiend-like claw, and now brushed my bare hands on the splintered bench.

Slivers of ebony wood dug into my pale hand, stinging it. It seems to be one of the few things I'm allowed to feel: guilt, shame, fear, and pain.

"Vincent," I thought I was the only one left. Looking back, I found her chocolate eyes watching me, confusion mingled in them. It was because of me. "What are you doing?" I lifted up my hand, hastening to put the gloves back on them. Fingers a few shade darker than my skin, healthy, sun warmed fingers clasped over my clammy, pale hand.

Pulling them closer to her, she inspected the hand with disapproval. "Are you really as emo as I had imagined? You like splinters in your hand?" Her fingers were warm against my hand, and so, I did not pull away.

Shaking her head slightly, she tenderly reached forward and plucked one of the larger pieces out of my palm. She was hesitant, I can see that. She thought I was going to pull away. I didn't. Breathing out, she stuck my hand close to her face, squinting for more splinters, like a tiger on the prowl.

I urged myself to resist kissing her on the top of her head of dark hair, but my left hand reached out to touch her. The image of deadly golden talons against her head, small by comparison made me remember. I did not deserve this. Jerking back, I stuffed my pricked hand back into its leather glove, alienated, isolated, alone and cold without those warm fingers holding it.

She looked at the now empty space in her hands, her hand ready to pull another splinter out, and back up at me, blinking. Hurt, I can see hurt in her eyes.

"Why are you so complicated? I don't know what you're thinking half the time. I want to help you Vincent!" she whispered, eyes averting from my face, as if frightened of my reaction. I intended on walking past her, but instead, walked up to her, so she would look at me, but reluctant to touch her.

"I'm trying," she looked confused at my random phrase. This time, I walked past her, brushing her bare shoulder lightly with my cloak.

"What are you trying, Vincent?" Her voice made me stop, the cloak fluttering to a stop, touching my legs.

"I'm going to try it…..forgiving myself." Once again, I was the one who walked away, but this time, she was not crying. She was smiling.

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**So what do you guys think? Was it worth your time? And should there be a third chapter? If yes, would you like to see a sad ending, or a happy one? So many questions...anyways, thanks for reading, and tell me in your reviews or PM me. I won't bite, I swear. **


	3. Hellos, Obsessions, and Farewells

**The Man Behind the Cloak**

**Chapter 3: Hellos, Obsessions, and Farewells  
**

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Obsession is an unhealthy thing. Especially if it's an obsession with something you'll never get. It's like a childish mania for sweets. Yet, what I'm obsession over is something so much more delicious than candy and chocolates. It's Vincent Valentine. Mr. Untouchable. Mr. Complicated. How I hated him, how I longed to grab him by the red collars and hiss insults in his face, and how I wished to feel his soft lips on mine…..I mean, how I prayed to have the chance to rip those pale, _soft,_ cold lips off his face. Day and night, he never seemed to give me a rest, and I hate him for it.

It's not an obsession. No, it's not. Not at all. No, no, no, no. I preferred to call it passionate curiosity. I am perfectly capable of living without him. Perfectly capable, yes I am.

* * *

I've never seen him so…vulnerable and still. Yes, he may seem dead and motionless half the time, but there were still signs of life: the occasional flicker of the red eyes, shift in stance, flip in hair, or if you're lucky, the blunt 'humph', but only if you're lucky. Now, he's not even twitching, or breathing, or…anything! I was the one twitching on the other hand. Twitching, pacing, fretting, and fussing, as if all my extraneous movements might make him wake up.

I studied his body again, trying to detect some sudden movement. Nothing. He had a good size hole in his chest, dear Leviathan, is there any reason why he should still be moving? Oh, try not to be too sensible, Yuffie! Of all the time to become mature, now was not the time. Besides, this is _the_ Vincent Valentine. He survives through anything. Anything.

I went back to pacing again; occasionally taking a misstep that sends me hurtling to the side of the moving vehicle. The driver was almost as bad as Cid. Turning, I thought I saw the stoic man moved. I dashed over to his side, eyes leveling at his chest. And there was another twitch. Was it the truck? No, don't let it be the truck! No…Yes! It's not the truck! I jumped up, whooping. Vincent Valentine was breathing again. In front of me, the hole on his chest closed, all by itself, replacing not only skin and muscles, but the cloth too. Mr. Valentine is a miracle worker. And I was the one who saved him. Pacing does help.

* * *

It's been a few weeks since we finally found him. A bit hesitant in flocking there ourselves—after all it was Vincent's special place—we had sent the single person that Vincent might not mind: Shelke to fetch him. I wasn't a bit jealous that Shelke, cold, cold, steel blue eyes Shelke was the one sent. Not a single bit. Everyone of the Avalanche greeted the missing man with enthusiasm, patting him on the back, smiling, and laughing. Even Shelke was smiling, shinning with radiance that I was not envious of, nope, not at all. And Vincent? Well, I could see hints of a smile on his pale, flawless face. He had changed.

Now, weeks later, upon entering small hallway of the airship, trying not to loose my stomach's contents—not that there was any in there in the first place anyways, I had learned not to eat before riding on Cid's airship—I found myself standing before Vincent Valentine. Putting away that sour, sick face I replaced it with a weak grin. My stomach was grumbling again, and this time, it was not from airsickness. I was having a horrible case of déjà vu.

"Hello, Vinnie," I called, giving an unconvincing wave. He looked down at me, an indifferent look on his face. Just because he had changed doesn't mean he had changed…if you know what I mean.

"It's Vincent," he answered in that deep god-like voice of his. Not obsessing, I am not obsessing. Silence. I'd have to admit that it's quite rare for me to have moments where I'm tongue tied, but like I said…Vincent's a miracle worker.

I looked around; there seemed to be no one around, giving me another wave of déjà vu. Creepy. Something always happens when we're alone together.

"You still—"

"I've been—" we both fell silent, as if afraid to go on. "You can go first Yuffie," he told me, once again hiding his chin beneath the red collar. I frowned but resisted my urge to reach forward and pull down that red cloth so I can see his carefully sculpted chin.

"Fine," I sighed, trying to find a way to say this. Was I regretting this? Yes. "You still owe me."

He frowned, his perfectly shaped eyebrows scrunching together and his beautiful red eyes peered down at me in slight confusion—no, I'm not obsessing.

"You were not the only one searching, Yuffie," he answered, and for a second there, he had me confused too. Then the 'OHHHH' look crossed my face. "No, no!" I shook my hands and head at him, then finding that a bit dangerous for my health at the moment and maybe Vincent's clothes too; I slowed, pausing for a minute to cease the spinning. "I wasn't talking about that."

"Remember?" He gave me a blank look. Should have known…. "When you were fighting that weird lady wearing red?" I saw the light slowly come into his face. Trying to imagine the 'OHHHH' look on his face, a small grin crept onto my face.

"Yes?" The man seemed reluctant to truly admit that he knew what I was thinking of. I rolled my eyes and gave him an unappreciative look. "I saved your life! You owe me one!" Crossing my arms, I tapped my finger on my arm impatiently.

"I saved your life too." Oh how that answer….I glared at him, and he stared back, unaffected. "You're made to save lives, Vinnie, so that doesn't count!" He raised an eyebrow, and his arms crossed, tight leather squeaking, a mirror reflection of mine.

"Is that true?" He asked, deep voice vibrating my entire body. "What is it that you ask for then, Yuffie?" I blinked, arms dropping to the side. He was actually playing along with me. Once again, I was lost for words. I could see that Vincent was slightly impatient, his eyebrows moved down slightly, his eyes narrowed by a mere fraction, and the corners of his mouth twitched. Before, you can never ready anything from Vincent's body language. He didn't have one. But now…he seemed to have adopted one, though subtle in its ways.

"If you are not going to speak…" his body tilted away, signaling to me that he was about to leave. I jumped forward, perhaps a bit too many steps, stopping right in front of him. "No, wait!" the head turned back so I could see both deep red eyes. They were waiting.

"I…um…." How to say this? No other way than just to blurt it out. "I want a kiss from you…as a favor for saving you," and what a bold favor to ask. Did I learn my lesson from last time? Apparently no.

How nice it would be to just melt into the ground, or stare at the ground forever as Vincent leave for the third time. I stared at my reflection in his shiny golden boots, waiting for them to disappear. But I forced myself to be brave. I am Yuffie the Ninja after all. I looked up, expecting the same look I had received almost three years ago. That look had imprinted itself in my brain. I know every single detail of that upset, distraught stare. It was the first real expression he ever showed me.

He leaned in, raven black hair creating a curtain, and I felt my knees buckle and all the other fireworks one get when kissed. This though, this was ten times better. There was no sign of desperate lust in this new kiss. It was simple, and real. This was our first kiss. Vincent pulled back, his normally pale complexion slightly scarlet, and he averted his eyes. I was still experiencing the cliché fireworks.

"That's my final step," his whisper was barely noticed, it was the gloved hand that pushed a strand of my brown hair aside that finally pulled me back. He stared into my chocolate brown eyes, conveying the rest of his message to me through his now readable eyes. I understand everything. Sins can be forgiven.

"How do you think I did?" He was asking for reassurance. Me of all people. I felt a shiver of excitement run down my spine.

"Perfect," I answered back, flashing a toothy grin and giving him two thumbs up. A shadow of a smile appeared on his lips, and he placed his gloved hands on my shoulder, running his thumb over the goose-bumps on my skin.

"Thank you," he said in his deep, dark chocolate voice and patting me on the shoulder, turned to leave. I blinked and suddenly cried out. "Wait a sec!" The no longer so complicated man stopped and looked over his shoulder. For a moment there, I thought I saw the look of guilt grabbed at his features. I gave him a serious look, and he frowned. He must be slightly fearful of what he had done to wrong me now.

"The last two times," I said slowly, drawing out the suspense. "You were the one who left." He gave me a classical Vincent look that spelled, 'AND?' I approached him and held out my arm. "This time it's my turn."

After much convincing, I had the infamous long red cloak on me, sagging at the shoulders, half my features hidden by the floppy collar, and the tattered tail trailing on the ground. It smelled of fresh soap and the scent that was no longer a mystery to me, and I buried my head into the collar like a turtle so only my eyes showed from above the line. Vincent stood behind me, frowning deeply, and looking quite naked without his usual oversized red cloak.

"Hurry," he rushed, arms crossed in annoyance. I grinned in victory and turned to face him, making sure that I don't trip over the tail. The collar was also a hindrance to my sight. How the heck does he see out of it anyways? I grabbed the cloak with one hand, wrapping it around myself.

"Someday….maybe someday," I deepened my voice, which was slightly muffled by the collar, trying not to giggle at the same time. Then I turned, flipping the cloak out dramatically. The crisp _whoosh _it made as it flapped that sounded so similar to what the raven haired man love to do excited me even more than the face that I was wearing _the _Vincent Valentine's cloak. Walking a few steps, I stopped, tilting my head slightly towards him, eyes averted and a grim look of despair on my face. "Farewell, Vincent Valentine," I whispered dramatically, then walked down the hallway, still trying not to trip over myself. The collar was also a hindrance to my sight. Behind me, I could hear a deep chuckle and my grin got wider.

Farewell Stranger Behind the Cloak, hello Vincent Valentine.

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**And that is IT! Whew, all three chapters completed. How do you guys like the ending? Strange, right? Well, I have to thank Mercury Project for giving me the idea of Yuffie walking out on Vincent. Mercury Project asked for a sad ending but well…I just couldn't do this to the two after all that, and so I tweaked it. Yuffie walks out on Vincent and the rest of you get your happy ending. Woohee! **

**Now go and review!**


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